Peace
by AllIsButToys
Summary: Two women in different situations deal with the aftermath of war."It isn't enough to talk about peace."


Disclaimer: If you recognise it, I don't own it.

**Peace**

"It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must belief in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it." _Eleanor Roosevelt_

*

Peace. It was indeed a curious concept. As if the emotions of an entire section of the populace could be summed up by such a simple word.

Even though it was the technical term for the state of the wizarding community of Britain the hearts of many reflected the word's very antithesis. The hearts of so many, war torn and ravaged.

*

She had lost so much, the woman in the black robes. First it had been her estranged cousin, blamed for crimes he had never committed. Then her husband, persecuted by those who would have stopped her marrying him twenty-five years ago. Her daughter and her husband, no parent should ever have to outlive their child. But it was the last loss that had people staring.

Her sister. The family resemblance was evident, and eyes followed her with fear as she walked down the alley. She could not escape the reputation of the woman who had, undoubtedly, killed many and destroyed even more lives.

She didn't understand how one person could be filled with that much hate. What she had rebelled against her whole life her sister had willingly embraced: teachings of the Pureblood 'right to rule'. She had been a disgrace to her family, marrying a muggleborn while her sister, both her sisters, had been venerated as perfect daughters. She had never craved power the way that they did.

Maybe it was middle child psychology. Maybe she hadn't needed to be the centre of attention like her spoilt younger sister, with her pretty blond hair and blue eyes, or powerful like her elder sister, with her cynical mind and her poisonous tongue. Even then she could never known what the future held.

She often wondered if her daughter had fallen at the hands of the woman who she had once called 'sister'. Whether she was really vindictive enough to seek her niece out for vengeance, simply for making a similar choice as her mother had all those years ago, a marriage to an outcast.

And now they were gone. Her family had been taken from her as a result of the insanity her sister and people like her had believed as right. And she couldn't bring herself to hate her sister, because she was simply a product of her upbringing, a susceptible mind filled with all the wrong information. And because of that she felt guilty, like she was betraying the memory of her daughter, her son-in-law, her cousin, her husband.

What would he think about it, the man she loved? He had always known her background, she could never escape it, and he had married her anyway. He never believed in any of the poison embedded in her childhood. He was honest, kind and genuine, and he had loved her, and their daughter. Their eccentric, mad, beautiful daughter with her ever changing looks and her bubbly personality.

The baby in her arms gave a soft cry, and she wrapped the blanket around him a little closer when his arm was exposed to the cold morning air. Her grandson was the image of his parents, but there was a little of his namesake there too in his smile. How she missed that smile.

They had died, her husband and daughter, trying to protect both of them, to give them a better world. A world for where the pair could be proud of who they were, and where they came from. Maybe that day wasn't today, there was still much to be done with this emerging post-war society, but the little boy in her arms had given her hope.

Standing in the middle of Diagon Alley, Andromeda Tonks smiled down at Teddy and sighed. "One day we will have peace."

*

Minerva McGonagall surveyed the Great Hall as it was, peaceful and empty. But it would not remain so for very much longer. Today was the day that the school would reopen.

The world had seen too much suffering in the last four years. Hogwarts had seen too much. When she had agreed to open the doors again Minerva had been buried in logistic and repairs, she had not paused to consider what taking up the leadership would mean.

She stood behind the place that had always been hers, thinking. The middle seat at the top table belonged to Albus. The seat on her left, Severus. So many lives.

She looked out at the sea of glittering plates and polished benches. It was hard to believe it was only a few months ago that the hall had been littered with bodies. She still saw their faces. She could even picture where they sat.

Colin Creevy: Gryffindor table, west facing bench, sixteen feet from the top.

Nymphadora Tonks: Ravenclaw table, west facing bench, two seats from the door.

James Potter: Gryffindor table, east facing bench, exactly in the middle of the bench.

She stooped herself, too many had been lost, and she still remembered them all. But the school should remain, it was what they would have wanted, every single one of those brave men and women, a better future.

She examined the pocket watch that had once belonged to her predecessor and dearest friend, the train would be at the station now. Children who, already, would have seen too much for their age would be arriving in a matter of minutes. Hogwarts would be a safe place for them in this new age, a place that would strive to eliminate former prejudices and promote unity and equality.

They needed this place to heal them and, though she would never admit it, in the peace and quiet of the lonely hall, Minerva realised that she did too.


End file.
